after Archibald MacLeish
The sun hovers on the horizon before
creeping over mountains and meadows
over oceans hills houses and high rises.
Faces awash in blue light scroll endless
pathways of contrasting pixels.
No one applauds the curtain call or sees
the stars through the streetlights.
No one notices the moon above the haze
of honking out more emissions. My grasp
on the day falters even as I meet the delivery
at the door. Time only passes on phones
that track our heart rate, step count.
I wince as the sun cuts sunset blink past
a buffet of sherbet and spun sugar.
The brake lights mar the picture
there’s no way to crop them out.
I just want to be home banishing the dark
in romcoms and blinds. There are rumours
that the night indigos into inky blacktart
Allison Burris grew up in the Pacific Northwest and currently lives in Oakland, California. She received her MLIS from San Jose State University and her poetry appears or is forthcoming in various journals including Instant Noodles, Heartline Spec, Muleskinner, After Happy Hour Review, and The Marbled Sigh.
links: https://linktr.ee/allisonburris